


Midway

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Sharing, M/M, Oral Fixation, Road Head, Underage Drinking, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, honestly, this starts as fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean insists on having fun with Sam at a carnival. On the way home, Sam eats half a bag of cotton candy, and his brother's dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midway

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is 16-and-21 or thereabouts.

“Dean, no,” Sam sighs, _again_ , squinting at the bright lights of the carnival through the dashboard. 

“Come on.” That's been Dean's entire argument the whole way down the back country road, although this time he adds, “Don't be such a baby.”

“Dean, that's the  _point_ , I'm not a kid anymore, you can't just throw me on a merry-go-round and expect me to like it.”

“Fine, no horsies, only big boy rides.” Dean grins at him with his mouth closed and pops his door; Sam glares at him through the windows, watching him amble up to his door and open it, trying to usher him out.

Sam crosses his arms on his chest, spares Dean only the quickest glance and says, again, “No, Dean.”

“Kids these days,” Dean mutters, but his grin doesn't falter. He reaches in the car and grabs Sam by the back of his jacket and he just  _hauls_ . Sam has no choice, flails and protests but Dean's still stronger even if he is shorter now. Sam tries to smack his hands away, tries to get back into the car but Dean somehow keeps a hold of hm  _and_ closes the car door at the same time, eventually releasing Sam and brushing off his shoulders, rearranging his messed up jacket. “Jeez, talk about problem child.”

“Dean, I'm not-”

“Yeah, yeah, not a kid,” Dean rolls his eyes, “So stop acting like it. Come on, just, loosen up, okay?” He looks briefly serious, strange among the festive lights, green eyes catching the kaleidoscope of colours and going soft for just a moment, a moment no one else but Sam would recognize.

So Sam sighs out through his nose, eyes flickering between Dean and the carnival and settling back on Dean and he finally grumbles, “Fine, let's go.”

“Atta boy,” Dean grins again, eyes crinkling up in the corners in a way Sam hasn't seen for a long while. He reaches his arm out and grabs Sam's, trails his fingers down until they're holding hands, does it so easy and slick without even looking around to see who might be watching.

Sam frowns for a second, fingers wiggling against his brother's, pulse starting to speed up just a bit because they're in  _public_ and they're  _holding hands_ and Dean doesn't spare him a glace, tugs him towards the midway.

Sam does relax, eventually, after the beer tent where they don't even pretend to check ID, after watching Dean take down his corndog like a champion cocksucker, and especially now, perched at the top of the ferris wheel. Dean's got his inside coat pockets stuffed with beers, two more for each of them and Sam's lost count anyway so it doesn't matter. All that really matters is Dean jammed up under his long arm and their thighs pressed together in the close quarters, both of them buzzed-warm in the cool summer breeze. It's easily the tallest ferris wheel Sam's ever been on, affording a lovely view of the flat midwest all around them, the dazzling bright carnival and people's backyard patio lights, all eclipsed by the gentle ruffle of Dean's hair when he rests his cheek against Sam's shoulder.

“Thank you,” Sam says, doesn't know  _why_ , it just tumbles out, and Dean laughs in a rumble against him.

“Changed your tune pretty fast.”

“Shut up,” Sam mutters, pulling Dean closer with his arm, threading his fingers into the short crop of dark blond and giving a gentle tug.

Dean goes a little stiff like he's surprised, tilting his head up, lips pink and parting slow and Sam doesn't even think about it for a second, just puts his big hand on Dean's face and swoops down to his mouth. It's all cheap beer and popcorn and  _Dean_ , Dean everywhere, Dean's hand clutching at his face, Dean's legs pressing restless against him and Dean's tongue slipping wet along his lips, licking his way inside just as the wheel lurches them moving again and starts letting people off.

But they aren't ready to go, not at all, and they pay for a second ride, spending the entire time glued together, breathless and reeling by the time they step off.

 

* * *

 

On their way out, Dean buys a bag of fresh cotton candy, pink and blue, but Sam ends up eating it all the way back to the motel. He takes down half a bag on his own, cheeks pink from the beer and the sugar rush, fingertips caked purple and his lips the same, shiny with spit because he can't stop licking at them, he's just fucking _delicious_. Once he starts cleaning up his fingers, Dean pushes the big car a little faster, and Sam smirks around his thumb and moans out loud. So Dean rolls down his window and Sam fights not to laugh, but the noise that pours out around his long index finger is half-giggle-half-groan and it sets him off _completely_.

“Sammy, what are you doing?” Dean forces out, shaking with his brother's stupid infectious giggles.

“Distracting you,” Sam shrugs, sticks two fingers in his mouth and slides over close to his brother on the bench seat. “It's working.”

Sam keeps fellating his hand, so close that Dean can see it out of the corner of his eyes, the soft wet noise making it feel like Sam's already on his dick and in a second, Sam's hand snakes over Dean's thigh, gropes him through his jeans and they both gasp. Dean's already half-hard and Sam chuckles around his sticky purpley fingers again, squeezing his brother's dick with the other. “ _Really_ working.”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters, hissing, licking his lips, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but then he smirks a bit, tilting his hips up against Sam's palm, daring one hand off the wheel to grab the back of Sam's head, trying to guide him down, growling, “Just do it already, Sammy.”

“Do what?” Sam blinks up all innocent but he's grinning even as Dean's shoving his head down, hands flying to Dean's pants, sticking his purple tongue out and pressing it against the hard ridge in Dean's jeans, mouthing around his dick before he tugs it out. “This?” Sam asks, still all fake innocence, head tilting, licking a stripe up the side of Dean's cock, twirling his sugar-stained tongue around the head and licking his lips. “Want me to suck your dick, huh?”

“Sammy - jesus.” Dean's all stutters and swearing, desperate to look, to never _stop_ looking at the way his brother's candy-coloured lips slide up and down, painting his dick all sticky and sweet and there's nowhere to pull over or he _would_. He just drives faster instead, speed limit long broken anyway.

“Tastes so good,” Sam says, breaths it out hot against Dean's dick, licking away the sugar in a long lap before he opens wide, stretches his lips and sinks down as far as he can go – which is basically all the way, throat well-practiced and relaxed. It's not like he _wants_ Dean to crash but it's fun, satisfying to feel his brother trying to hang on, fingers digging in Sam's scalp, hips restless while he tries to find the right balance between _driving_ and fucking into Sam's mouth. 

Dean screams into the motel parking lot maybe five breakneck minutes later, screeches to a crooked stop and he finally gets a good look at his brother, which ends the whole thing right there. Sam's all purple-mouthed and sugary spit, lips slick with drool and Dean's precome and he  _ knows _ , always knows Dean's noises and twitches, has the growls practically memorized so he knows it's time to pull off, stick out his tongue and catch Dean's load. It's all pearly white on purple, salt and sweet and Dean's hand still in his hair, grip tightening nearly painful until he's done, until Sam's mouth is dripping a swirl of colours, grinning through it and sliding up to kiss his brother because, “Gotta taste this,” he says against Dean's open panting mouth, slick slide of cotton candy tongues and salty jizz and Sam was right, it's fucking  _ delicious _ .

Dean doesn't bother straightening out the shitty parking job, just grabs the half-full bag of cotton candy and follows his brother close inside, already shoving a sugary handful of the stuff into his mouth, intent on returning the sweet favour. 

 


End file.
